Work Text:
You stuffed your hands into your fleece lined jacket pockets as you weaved through the heavily crowded streets of Hell’s Kitchen, late winter’s late afternoon air nipping at your skin. Perhaps being a private investigator wasn’t the best career option but at least it was fun. Fun as in, the working hours were extremely flexible and you met new people pretty often - people who usually ended up either helping you later or just becoming your friend.
Briefly, you stopped in an alleyway to check the address of the meat shop you were supposed to be visiting for information on someone your client was looking for. They allegedly had a habit of ordering bacon there every Thursday and you’d even heard there was another business working out of the same store - another source of information to you - and you figured it’d be best to give the lead a shot.
You’d been searching for this specific someone for at least a couple weeks now, the longest you had ever gone on one specific job and coincidentally, it was the job that granted you the strangest yet most useful interactions. Useful, as in, you’d met another PI by chance - Jessica Jones - who you’d bumped into at the post office on your quest for any stray information once the case had begun getting more complicated; and strangest, as in, you'd met ‘The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’. The real one, of course; more than once too as he’d helped you when you set out at night to stakeout or scout on rooftops and in alleyways, granting you perhaps the safest work environment you’d ever had in your few years of working the job.
Walking back into the street, looking up at store signs as you closed in on your destination, you thought of Daredevil. You thought of yourselves as acquaintances, sharing a laugh here and there; even striking up an hour-long conversation at one point. After all the trouble that was Wilson Fisk’s game of chess with the FBI and Poindexter’s manipulated mental spiral, you admired him for how easily he slipped back into the role of Daredevil; creating a new suit - completely black with red cloth adorning his knuckles, tied like Muay Thai ropes and the letters ‘DD’ in the same red at his chest accompanied by the iconic horns - a suit that had regained the symbolism the last once had and slipping back into the trust of Hell’s Kitchen's police force and citizens.
You were snapped out of your thoughts when your eyes met the faded and peeling green and yellow sign reading ‘Nelson’s Meats’ and after peering through the glass doors, you pushed them open, grateful for the warmth of the store and headed for the counter.
Introducing yourself to the tall, blonde haired man there, you began inquiring about the person you were looking for. Careful to not disclose that you were a PI but rather just a concerned relative as a precaution against an inherently reluctant attitude from the man you learnt was the owner here. The conversation carried further even after you had gathered the information you needed.
“Y’know for a second I thought you were here for Nelson, Murdock and Page,” he added with a chuckle while organising the cash register.
“Nelson, Murdock and who?” you asked distractedly as the newly received information swirled around with previously known facts, clicking into place before realising be must have been referring to the other business working out of the store.
“Nelson, Murdock and P- yeah the sign’s real small so no one really sees it if they’re here just for the meats,” he said pointing to a small black and bronze sign propped up in the window. “My brother, he and his friends are- um what's-it-attourneys. He’s real proud of it. They’re through that door on your left there.” He continued, nodding towards a door messily painted white leading to what was perhaps a house-like extension to the shop.
You hummed in acknowledgement, turning towards the door, realising for the first time that there was indeed a little bit of chatter in that direction. Maybe speaking to them could help your case and even if they couldn't tell you anything due to attorney-client privilege, maybe you could score yourself some lawyers.
“Thanks, Mr. Nelson,” you mumbled before heading towards the door. Not sure if you were meant to knock, you opened the door slightly and peeked through the crack.
✁
There was a humble setup at something like a dinner table. Papers stacked up almost as high as your own height on the furthest side of the table, mis-matched chairs adorned with three people slightly older than yourself. As you surveyed through the door, the brunette man turned away from you cracked a joke you couldn’t quite hear, sending the - who you guessed - other blond-headed Nelson into a laughing fit. The atmosphere calmed you and you knocked as you opened the door wider.
“Oh- Matt- Foggy- client-” a woman with curled blonde hair said with a nod towards you. You waved, unsure of what else to do as who you now knew as Foggy got up and came towards you.
“You must be the other Nelson,” you said with a handshake before introducing yourself.
“Yep! That’s me. Nice to meet’cha,” Foggy said as he turned and pointed to the other people at the table. “And that’s Karen, y’know Page, and that’s Murdock- Matt Murdock.”
You nodded at Karen and had begun to wave at Matt before he’d turned around completely. Upon the realisation of his blindness you opted for an audible greeting instead.
“Mr. Murdock,” you could’ve sworn there was a brief scrunch of his eye brows that threaded panic into the rest of his face but as soon as you thought you had acknowledged it, it was gone, leading you to believe it wasnt there in the first place- perhaps a result of a longer-than-usual day of reading people’s body language to assist in getting information you may need.
“Call me Matt,” he said with a comforting yet unwaveringly deep voice and a small smile, one that tickled your brain with recognition. You stared at his smiling face for a second too long, thickening the tension in the room before Foggy liquified it once more.
“So! What kind of legal trouble can we help you with?” he asked, clapping his hands and fetching a chair for you. You briefly clarified your reason for being here before perpetuating the story of being a relative in search of a loved one. Mr. Murdo- Matt titled his head sharply as you spoke, suspicion clearly detailed in his expression and ensuing questions. It was more curious and amused than anything else - almost as if he’d known it was a lie and respected the reason for telling the lie but you controlled your nervousness and questioned onward. The conversation changed and developed and it wasn’t long before you dropped the act of being a relative of the person you were looking for - something you mentally slapped yourself on the wrist for - due to Nelson, Murdock and Page’s willingness to help regardless. Soon, the conversation developed and grew longer and soon enough you were getting to know the law team on a personal level. Karen worked as a PI along with Foggy and Matt who were attorneys, still trying to build a solid base of clientele after disbanding basically a year and a half ago.
“Y’know if you have any clients looking for a lawyer, I know two amazing lawyers who could be able to help them,” Matt said, nudging your thigh with his knee and he lounged in his wooden chair. You hit his thigh earning yourself a small chuckle from the smirking man.
“Fat chance, Murdock,” you bit back playfully.
“C’mon! You’ve been working as a PI longer than we’ve been back together as a firm- plus we’re friends now, right?”
“Friends don’t mean business partners, Matt!” Smiling, you looked away from the red lenses of the man in front of you, catching a look being shared between Foggy and Karen but before you could ask about it, Foggy shut his laptop and began packing up. You looked out the window built into the back door and realised the sun was setting, painting the room with a soft orange glow.
You shot up, remembering all the paperwork still waiting for you back at your office and as if on cue, your phone chimed and by checking the text from your assistant you learnt that there was a client waiting by your desk.
“Ugh- how many times am I going to tell Mr. Smith that I don’t do client meetings past 5:30PM,” you grumbled as you angrily texted your assistant, begging him to turn away the middle-aged man.
“Everything alright?” Matt asked, slowly getting up from his seat as Foggy began putting away the papers punched with braille that were once situated in front of him.
“Yeah everything’s fine I’ve just gotta go,” you said, distracted, already on your way to the door back into the main part of the shop.
“I'll walk you out,” Karen offered, already grabbing her jacket. “I wanna talk to you anyway- PI to PI?”
“Sounds great; I’ve just bought myself some time,” You looked up from your phone and shot her a smile before opening the door for her to exit first as she rounded the table to join you. In the split second of your pause for Karen, your eyes unknowingly lingered on Matt; you wondered if the bruise right next to his left eye hurt when he smiled - when that same corner of his eye crinkled. Thought interrupted by a flurry of pastel yellow hair entering your field of vision, you exited with Karen, almost immediately starting up your conversation.
Matt stood there, hands on his hips, head tilted towards the floor and listened as you exited. He followed your footsteps, heartbeat and the smell of your lavender-scented moisturiser for as long as his senses would allow.
“...Matt!” Foggy half-yelled as Matt’s head snapped up. Foggy handed him his briefcase, his tone half-worried and half-amused.
“I was asking if you wanted to stop by Josie’s before you go out tonight. You okay, buddy? I’ve never seen you that smitten by someone you’ve hardly just met,” he followed the statement with a knowing chuckle, heading towards the door you’d closed behind you.
“That’s ‘cause we’ve not only just met Fogs,” he set down his briefcase as he put his jacket on and grabbed his cane. He chewed on the inside of his lip before lowering his tone and finishing his thought.
“I’ve known them as Daredevil,” Foggy froze right before his hand could turn the door’s handle and turned to watch Matt as he finally grabbed his briefcase.
“ Oh . Shit.”